


it's in my body language, read me

by electr1c_compass



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electr1c_compass/pseuds/electr1c_compass
Summary: They’re both awful actors, but it’s less of an act and more of a surprise. It’s not even a big lie, really, just an omission of truth, which Lovett is a pro at.orJon and Lovett give Emily a day off.





	it's in my body language, read me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> Many thanks to my amazing beta honorbound who caught all my late-night spelling errors and turned this bird monster into something cohesive.
> 
> Keep it secret, kept it safe.

It starts as a slow shift in their schedule, stretching out over weeks. Emily’s texts arriving later and later: _leaving the office. Haven’t left yet. On my way home soon_ , after they’ve been home for hours and dinner’s gone. Jon makes a ships in the night joke over coffee one morning, except it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore and Lovett laughs hollowly in response. She sends them Instagram DMs of her desk dinners and they get used to leaving leftovers in the fridge.

Leo and Pundit take to lying near the door when Jon and Lovett arrive home without Emily. They scramble up in excitement when they hear the garage door lift and her car pull in. And Lovett gets it. He misses her too.

It shifts until it’s 9pm on a Friday and he’s an hour into the _Lovett or Leave It_ taping when she finally slides into their corner booth. He can’t see her face from stage, but he’s sure she looks tired. She always looks tired lately. He hopes Jon orders her food. She won't have eaten and probably will be too caught up chatting with Tanya to stop the waiters making the rounds. He's momentarily distracted by the thought, forgets the audience member’s name.

“I'm sorry, Kelsey? Casey?”

“Chelsea,” she says.

He waves his stack of index cards at her. “Close enough.” The audience laughs. So does she, fortunately.

(Even Emily’s makeup can’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, he discovers later, when they’ve found each other in the green room.)  


Saturday mornings are for sleeping in late, at least according to Lovett. Jon usually has other ideas about Saturday mornings with the words “running” and “alarms” that he and Emily immediately veto. Pundit and Leo usually take their side, all four of them cuddling together while Jon putters around the house, unable to stay still.

One of the worst parts about officially _really_ moving in, as in sharing-the-same-bed-every-night-on-purpose moving in, is that he finds himself becoming attuned to their alarms too. When Jon’s goes off on Saturday morning and he starts to stir, like the early rising monster he is, Lovett cracks an eye.

“Morning,” Jon says, a little gruff and rubbing a hand across his cheek. He’s blinking slowly in the sunlight and the topsheet falls down to his waist when he sits up. It’s wholly unfair to have to deal with his...everything so early on a Saturday, so Lovett twists to his other side to find Emily’s usual spot empty and cold. Jon must follow his gaze because he says, clearing his throat, “think she’s working.”

“Again?” Apparently his dreams of a lazy Saturday morning in bed aren’t happening, so he stands and heads for the en-suite bathroom. Jon’s still talking, a fucking chatterbox even pre-caffeine, so he leaves the door cracked to listen.

“- this new account and last night, she said she was nervous about that presentation. Y’know the one she was working on on Wednesday?”

 _Fuck_ , his head hurts; the last post-show rum and coke had been a mistake.

“...I think she’s stressing about the promotion and I’m worried about her, think she’s working too much.”

Lovett opens the door to find Jon in the same place he left him. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his bare chest - sleeping between Jon and Emily sometimes reminds him of sleeping inside a geothermal vent. “She mentioned something about an upcoming performance review. Monday, I think?”

“Mmhm,” Jon agrees but Lovett doesn’t really think he’s listening anymore. He’s blatantly running his eyes over Lovett’s body and it’s hard not to preen, at least a little. “It’s early, why don’t you come back to bed?”

“Interesting role reversal.” He pushes off the frame to walk over slowly, crawls up from the bottom of the bed until he can throw a leg over Jon and settle into his lap. He’s still mostly asleep, he thinks. Jon touches him immediately, running his hands along the waistband of his underwear. “What happened to your early morning run? Is it even after eight yet?”

Jon’s already nosing along his jawline and Lovett will never, never be used to this feeling of being so... _wanted_ by these people he loves best in the world. “I’ll go run later while you’re at bootcamp.”

“I suggested that _last_ _week_ and you told me there was no reason to wait and that it was my fault for choosing a mid-morning class. Did we accidentally have a Freaky Friday moment last night?”

“Lovett?”

“Jon Edward?”

“Shut up.”

 

Lovett’s just starting to contemplate a shower when their phones buzz. It’s a text from Emily that says _hoping to be home this afternoon. Swamped at work._ and it’s followed by several red hearts and a kissing face emoji.

He’s lying on his side, facing away from Jon, who’s propped against the headboard with one leg hanging out of the sheet. “I’m worried about her too,” he says quietly into the empty space beside him. “She’s working too much.” He can hear Jon sigh, feel his body shift as he runs a hand through his hair.

“What do we do?”

“She needs a day off,” Lovett declares. “Did you drink the rest of that wine she likes?”

There’s silence from the other side of the bed and Lovett flails around until he can untangle his arm from the sheet and smack Jon’s thigh. “I’m sorry!” Jon protests, but he’s laughing and Lovett sighs dramatically. “I’ll make it up. I’ll go get more.”

“And flowers - those ones she likes, fuck what are they called.” Lovett stops to Google furiously for a minute. “These.”

“Where am I supposed to find -” Jon stops when Lovett turns to glare at him. “I’ll find them, give me a list and I’ll go get it.” With a sigh, he throws the sheet back, rudely uncovering Lovett in the process, and steps into the closet to get dressed.  


Secrets are neither Lovett’s strong suit nor his favorite thing, but he manages to keep his mouth shut about their plans when Emily gets home that evening. She pauses to hug them both before immediately changing into yoga pants and coming back to snuggle between them on the couch.

“Good day?” Jon asks, throwing an arm over her shoulders. She adjusts to lean back into him and props her feet in Lovett’s lap.

“Long day,” she corrects. “Glad to be home with my boys.” Not to be outdone, Leo jumps onto the couch, settling himself on her stomach and she groans under the extra weight.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?” Jon asks casually - they’d practiced to make sure he could sound natural. “Hanna wanted to see if we can come to brunch.”

“Oh, Hanna texted? Our group?” Emily starts to rummage around the cushions, presumably searching for her phone.

Lovett glares at Jon, hoping he can hear him telepathically ordering _do not fuck this up_.

“Well, Hanna through Tommy on our Slack. We were chatting earlier and he asked for her.” Jon’s playing with her hair and firmly avoids making eye contact.

“Yeah,” she interrupts herself with a yawn, “sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know,” Jon looks up, catches Lovett’s eye, and winks. Lovett bites back a grin and ignores him.

Emily kicks him gently, drawing his attention away. “How was your day?”

He covers her toes with a hand, they’re always cold, and she wiggles closer to his touch, shoving the other foot under his thigh. “It was okay. Boring. We missed you at the dog park.”

“I missed you guys too,” she lolls her head over to look at him, reaching back to take his free hand, “I’ll be free soon I think. You guys get tomorrow - promise. Now, I have several episodes of The Bachelor to catch up on.” She makes grabby hands at Jon, “give me the remote.”  


They’re both awful actors, but it’s less of an act and more of a surprise. It’s not even a big lie, really, just an omission of truth, which Lovett is a pro at.

Emily barricades herself in the spare bedroom and works for a few hours before they head to brunch. Lovett goes in to pull her away and finds her sitting cross-legged on the bed. She’s hunched over her laptop, glasses on and head in her hands. “Em?”

“Is it time to go?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“I just need another few minutes,” she says, typing furiously. “I just need to finish this.”

“Emily, come on.” He tugs her laptop away. “Tommy and Hanna are waiting.”

“They know you,” she retorts, leaning over to save her work, then getting up. “They’re going to budget an extra fifteen minutes.”

“Being fifteen minutes late is for amateurs, I hope they give me at least twenty five.”

They’re only seventeen minutes late to meet Tommy and Hanna because Jon physically pulls him out to the car. Lovett and Emily order mimosas and the rest of the group goes for Bloody Marys.

“Bloody Marys are garbage and you both know it,” Lovett tells Favs and Tommy when their drinks are delivered; it’s an old joke, but it makes Emily and Hanna both laugh. “And I will -- I will,” he has to get louder over their protests, “I will continue to tell you both over the next two weeks in public _and_ in private. I’ll do ads - I might even do ads with Ana Marie so I can tell her listeners how wrong the two of you are.”

“You like tomato juice, this is a stupid argument.” Tommy informs him.

Lovett scoffs at him and turns to Hanna. “We’re ignoring him now. Tell me how your life is going.” He props his chin on his hand to listen and catches sight of Emily while Hanna starts talking. She’s leaning into the sun beaming over their table, eyes shielded by her giant, obnoxious sunglasses that he’ll never get tired of mocking her for, laughing along with whatever Hanna’s saying and running her thumb over her wedding ring, twisting it thoughtlessly. She still looks tired, even though Jon had shepherded her to bed after only one episode of the Bachelor, but he thinks - he _hopes_ \- she seems a little more relaxed.

Their group dissolves after another round of drinks and egg white omelets - they’ve all become so LA it horrifies him - and the three of them head home.

Lovett chatters the entire way, just babbling nonsense to keep Emily turned to him in the back seat, both of them a little loose from the alcohol and lack of carbs. Jon laughs along, a big hand settled high up on her thigh. There’s a small glimmer of pride somewhere in his belly that he knows her well enough to distract her from noticing the extra car in front of their house. When Jon pulls in the garage, Lovett leaps out, beating Emily to the door inside and frantically locking her out.

“Lovett?” He hears her ask. “Jon?”

“Don't worry about it,” he hears Jon tell her soothingly. He can't make out her response but it sounds heated. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't have time to wait.

He feels a little bit like a superhero, letting the Soothe therapist in the front door with a breathless “You can set up here, she’ll be right in,” and sprinting through the house to dump the dogs outside, turn on the Sonos, light a candle. He’s like fucking Captain Relationship, or something. Jon can be his sidekick. Needs workshopping.

Pulling back open the garage door, he finds Emily waiting and _fuming_ , arms crossed and shoe tapping on the concrete. “What the hell? You’re ruining my brunch buzz.”

“Surprise?” He offers weakly, stepping back to let her in, Jon following closely and looking nervously at him.

Jon settles a hand on her lower back to push her through the house, even as she’s turning back to complain at Lovett while they walk. “You’ve been so stressed so,” they arrive at Jon’s office, dimly lit and music playing, where the masseuse is setting up, “you need a day to relax.”

Her shoulders drop, the fight disappearing. “Oh.”

Lovett feels fidgety, watching her, waiting for her reaction. “Brunch was step one.”

“Step _one_?” Her eyes look a little shiny and it makes him even more uncomfortable. She’s not an easy crier, Emily - they’re both more likely to tear up than she is and watching the dynamic rebalance is throwing him off. She takes a deep breath and he can see it so clearly in that moment, how exhausted she is.

“Go, we’ll see you in a few hours.”

“A few hours?” She looks delighted.

“Give me your phone,” Jon tells her next, firmly with no room for debate. She looks up at him and seems to debate it for a minute, gauging how serious he is, then passes over her bag. “No emails.”

“No emails,” she promises, then stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, leans over to plant a quick kiss on Lovett’s mouth.

 

“Why couldn’t we have made it a group massage?” Lovett complains, sitting cross-legged on the floor against the couch, battling furiously through the video game on the tv screen. He’s already changed into his sweatpants and a loose tee, while Jon’s still in his Friend of the Pod shirt from brunch, stretched taut across his chest. “I’m bored.”

“You could actually do some work. We have a podcast to record tomorrow.” Jon's not even bothering to look up from his spot stretched out along the couch, iPad propped against his legs.

“Sundays are for relaxing.”

“So then relax.”

“Ugh, I’m trying,” he loses his last life and groans, tossing the controller to the side. “Maybe Trump will do something interesting.”

“Don’t say that, I just finished the outline.”

“I hope he gets impeached ten minutes before we start recording.”

Jon kicks his side gently from where he’s lying down. “Fuck you.”

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait too much longer. Before Lovett can snipe back, the door to the office opens and Emily emerges, wrapped in the robe Jon had left in there that morning. The massage therapist follows, waving at them as she leaves, dragging her table behind her. Lovett pulls open the app and tips her heavily. She’s earned it.

“Hey, babe, feel better?” Jon shuts his iPad, leaning over Lovett to push it onto the coffee table.

She moves toward them slowly, a hand holding the neck of her robe closed. Her hair’s loose from her ponytail, hanging down around her shoulders, and her eye makeup’s smudged. “ _Amazing_.” She curls next to Jon on the couch and he twists to spoon her from behind and wraps an arm around her waist, holding her close and settling his chin on her shoulder. Emily runs a hand into Lovett’s hair before letting her arm rest on his shoulder, forearm against his chest. “My guys are the best.”

“Anything for you.” Jon kisses the side of her neck. “We’ve been worried.”

“ _I_ was worried,” Lovett tells her, leaning his head back to look at her. “Jon was very casual about not seeing you before 9pm for a week straight.”

Emily giggles and kisses the top of his head. “I should have guessed.”

“Do you feel relaxed yet?” Jon asks. “There’s some wine in the fridge.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Favreau?”

Lovet catches sight of Jon’s hand sliding up Emily’s thigh until it disappears under the hem of the robe. She shifts her hips back toward him, spreading her legs as much as she can on her side. Lovett looks away, but it’s not hard to guess what’s going on, especially when Emily’s hand clenches against his ribcage, fingernails digging into his skin.

“Is this,” her voice breaks, “step three? _God_.”

Jon laughs, but nothing about his tone is funny. It makes the hair on the back of Lovett’s neck stand up because he _knows_ that laugh and he knows Emily does too. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you.”

Lovett has to scoot out of the way, knocking against the controller on the rug, when Emily gets to her feet, bathrobe falling back into place. Jon follows and takes her hand, not even bothering to hide his bulge.

“Wanna come, Lo?” Emily asks, turning in the doorway.

He waves a hand at her. “This one’s for you.” She winks at him and he turns back to his paused game.

It takes another two tries for him to get through the level and one of them is definitely when his thumb slips off the controller because Emily’s scream echoes down the stairs and his character dies. She’s not quiet, but she’s not usually a screamer. He turns down the volume on the TV, listening for a minute but when it doesn’t appear to be a medical emergency, he unpauses.

 

 

Jon reappears when Lovett’s played through another two levels, taken the dogs on a walk, and ordered dinner. Jon’s shirtless with his sweatpants slung low around his hipbones. His hair’s sticking up and he’s flexing his fingers as he pads down the stairs.

“Need some water? A snack? Too late for condoms, I guess.”

Jon laughs, biting down on his lower lip. “Can you take some water up to her?”

“Yeah,” Lovett reaches around him to fill a glass and grabs a packet of almonds too, patting Jon’s stomach with his free hand. “Good work, buddy.” His laugh follows Lovett into the bedroom.

Emily has the sheet tucked under her arms when he enters, fucking around on her phone. “Hey.”

He passes her the water and the almonds, then slides in beside her. “You okay?”

She drinks the water then sets it on her nightstand. “Good. Sleepy.” He sets his arm around her shoulders and she leans back, settling against his body. They sit like that for a few minutes, while Lovett tells her about his next piece for Crooked, mostly talking to fill the silence.

When Jon comes back, he fits himself on Emily’s other side, propping his head up on one hand and setting the other on Emily’s stomach. Lovett keeps speaking. He talks her down until she’s asleep, sheet rising and falling rhythmically under Jon’s palm. In sleep, her face slackens peacefully and he can’t stop himself from reaching out to stroke a thumb below her eyes where the skin is still too dark and along the corners of her mouth where they’re turned down into a frown.

He has to swallow around a lump in his throat as a rush of how much he wants to protect her swells up. She’s too small, nestled between them and he knows without question that she’d do anything for either of them. That’s never been up for debate in this...thing that’s happening between them and he feels it like a physical pull now.

When he looks up, Jon’s watching him. “You make us better, you know.”

Lovett can feel himself flush at the frustrating sincerity. Someday, maybe, he’ll get used to it. “In that case, I guess I’ll stick around then.”


End file.
